putting out the fires.

sometimes i feel like a fireman. helmet on, gas mask ready, axe in my hands, and i break through the doors of blazing homes to salvage whatever can be salvaged, putting out the fires left by the carelessness of others. burning a little within with every piece of life devoured by the flames. living in others' hell, as if that could save me of my very own fiery chasm. all in vain. the fire that consumes my own world cannot be doused by my skill or engine; and no one shall come to put it out. truth be told, i do not look for a way out in a hallway of locked doors, nor do i look for something - someone - to help me salvage my own little world. i'm just looking for death elsewhere.